Blue Sparks
by Lucy Kajiura
Summary: A short, very sad two-chapter vignette story about the soft love between L & Misa, all fitting into the canon.
1. She

She didn't pay attention to him; she tried not to. There was this hint of sadness behind his eyes, every time he looked at her, this tiny spark only she could see. It was the color of the sea, deep and blue and lonely. Of course there wasn't really color in the dark eyes of the detective; it just _felt_ blue to her. She tried to avoid that gaze everywhere she went. The look that stripped her of her secrets, reminded her of the miserable girl she had become after her parents death, just looking at him, hunched over his work made her think of the nights she had cried herself to sleep, that she hadn't talked for days. It made her nervous, the thought that he could see it. The thought that he saw the same little blue spark of loneliness in her eyes drove her mad. She hated him. Fiercely, like you hate the knife that cuts you for the split second it takes you to withdraw your skin from its sharp blade; only that his gaze was always a blade, and she could never withdraw.

The way he hung around Light. Always there, always close. She had considered playing with him, making him a toy of her affections, so this gaze would disappear. The peek on the cheek, that was a test. Afterward his gaze burned. It wasn't like a blade anymore, it was like a fire in her chest, all-consuming, eating her inside out, taking all her secrets and hidden frowns and ignored pain and displaying them for him to see.

She watched him watch her, all the time. When he spoke he seldom lifted his gaze off of her, while she clung to Light, hiding away from the fire.

The day he died he looked at her that very same way. But somewhere along the way, just as if he knew, he smiled, ever so softly, the tiniest and sweetest smile she had ever seen, directed only at her, existing only for her.

When Light died, she realized that he did know, from the start. He always knew everything, somehow. He had known this too. So why hadn't he walked away? It was the blue spark, that tiny traitorous thing. And as much as she wished to forget, she couldn't. Putting on her best make-up, dressing up in her prettiest clothes, she tried to remember a time where he hadn't watched her. She couldn't. A soft smile on her lips all the way she took the shikansen back to her hometown, back to the place her parents had died and that blue spark had been born in her eyes.

There she climbed the tallest building, taking a glass elevator to the top floor and hopping the last stairs up to the roof as if she was going to a marvelous place. She never forgot how Light once had carelessly slipped that the man she was following liked rain. She wished it rained that day, but there was not a single cloud to hide the unrivalled beauty of the sunset.

The smile still clung to her lips when she hit the pavement.


	2. He

He didn't know why he watched her. But of course he did know, he just didn't want to admit it – there was loneliness in her eyes, thick like the cream on his cake. Pale, half-forgotten loneliness, the tiniest spark of blue. Of course he didn't really see just a piece of blue in her ocean-blue eyes, it was just a tiny piece that _felt_ blue to him.

So yes, he did know why he watched her smile and why he stayed long past his welcome when she wanted to be with Light. He knew why he longed to touch his spidery fingers to her cheek and say 'it's okay' – but he didn't. She wouldn't have wanted it, for once.

He wouldn't have wanted it either, in retrospect. What he did know, though, was that he wanted to give her a piece of him, before he went. The nervousness in Lights behavior hadn't slipped him, his glances at his watch hadn't either. His time was running out. Long precious second were spent mourning for Watari, then thinking about a way to show her what was behind his own eyes, that no doubt carried a blue spark of their own.

Finally, he settled on the softest smile, an unpracticed smile he had never seen on his face before, he just had to hope that it was enough to get it across. Her blushing cheeks, her eyes, wide-open and oh-so-soft. She shouldn't be here, but he had called her anyway, knowing he would die, wanting to watch her, no matter how selfish the request. It didn't matter anyway – he wouldn't … couldn't bear watching her get locked up as the second Kira – dying and leaving his successors to the job was the only way he could protect himself from having the tiny blue spark in his own eyes take over his whole being.

He knew that one day, she would realize it – she wasn't stupid. She'd see, one day. When she did, she would follow him, he knew that as well. Just this once he wanted to be selfish. Just this once he wanted to hope that there was a life after death and that he would see her again and he would be able to tell her all the things he had concluded about her; tell her that her smile broke his heart.

Just this one time he didn't want to do the right thing, the just thing. He would trade all the lives he saved as a detective and wager them against the selfishness of letting her die, in the hopes that there was a merciful god, somewhere.

Because that tiny blue spark would consume her just as his did him, he knew all too well that she would follow. All he could do was smile and collapse and die, with the picture of her face as his last thought, knowing.

Knowing that one day she would hit the pavement with the same smile he wore the day he died.


End file.
